Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“This place is…nice. Really nice.”
“Thanks.” Joshi leaned against the counter beside him. “How are you feeling? For real.”
Vasquez tried a cocky grin that pulled on his split lip. “It’s just scratches. I barely felt it.”
Joshi caressed the side of his face again. “You forget I was there.”
Vasquez shifted, embarrassed, knowing he looked like hell.
“So what’s for dinner? Smells good.”
Joshi brightened. “Baked ziti. Garlic bread. Salad. Nothing fancy.”
Vasquez’s stomach growled.
For fuck’s sake.
Why did he always turn into a starving street mutt around Joshi?
He dropped his gaze to the floor, cheeks burning.
It wasn’t just the food. It was everything. Joshi made him realize how empty he was inside, in more ways than one.
Joshi laughed.
“Can I help?” he offered.
Joshi shook his head. “Nah. Just waiting on the bread.”
They went to the rug and sat on big throw pillows, plates balanced on their thighs and a bottle of beer beside each of them.
Joshi asked how his week had been, and he hurried and deflected to something else.
“So what does an auditor from the commissioner’s office do exactly?”
Joshi finished chewing. “Mostly, I’m sent in to sniff out funny shit. Everything from missing money, incomplete reports, off-book spending, and unsanctioned operations. In a nutshell, departments hate to see me walk in the door.”
“Who are you auditing in the precinct?”
Joshi didn’t hesitate. “The narcotics task force.”
Vasquez snorted. “Whatever rumors you heard about God and Day, I can guarantee, they’re all true. It’s like constant Reno 911 episodes in there every day.”
“Well, they’re under extreme scrutiny now,” he said. “The complaints, the excessive budget, prohibited weapons, psych evaluations that never get filed.” Joshi caressed Vasquez’s bruised jaw. “Disregarded first-degree assaults.”
“Well, I didn’t press charges.”
“Regardless. Let’s not even start on how half that task force is practically sleeping together. The first officer—Ronowski—is living with the commissioner’s son. Like what the hell?”
Vasquez pfftd. “Good luck with your audit. Nothing ever happens to them.”
Joshi raised an eyebrow. “Well, I had a long meeting with their team and the captain. My reports are almost done. No matter how much God is loved by the city’s officials, he can’t override the decisions of the disciplinary board.”
Vasquez didn’t say anything.
“God’s about to serve a warrant Monday, and he’d better show and prove. No casualties, and the expenses on this bust better be justified. Because it’s either that or the task force goes under a full IA investigation. Could take months. Might be the end of them for good.”
Vasquez’s pulse spiked.
Joshi had just told him exactly when God was taking Mercer down.
He leaned back, stretching his legs out, playing it cool.
“There’s no love lost from me. I hate my job. Hate Atlanta, if I’m honest.”
Joshi studied him. “So why stay? Leave here. Start new in a different jurisdiction.”
Vasquez huffed. “My dad. I can’t leave him. I’m all he has, even if he barely recognizes me most days.”
Joshi set his empty plate down and inched closer. “I respect that. It’s important in my culture to take care of your parents. You’re a good man, Ramon.”
Vasquez scoffed. “You think that because you don’t know me.”
“It’s not about knowing you…it’s about knowing me.” Joshi rubbed his hand over Vasquez’s shoulder and down his back. “I’m a good judge of character… I’ve made a pretty decent living at sniffing out people’s bullshit.”
When his plate was scraped clean and the last sip of beer was gone, he stood and brushed the crumbs off his jeans.
“I better go. I’m taking my dad to breakfast tomorrow. He’s not good with time, so he’ll probably be up at five in the morning.”
Joshi walked him to the door.
They lingered there, caught in a moment so thick with heat he could barely breathe.
Joshi cupped his jaw, and instead of kissing his sore mouth, Joshi pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, his jaw, then the column of his throat.
Each one lingering longer than the last.
Vasquez shut his eyes and leaned into it, trembling.
The warmth of Joshi’s lips created a burning he felt in his bones.
He wanted to sink into Joshi so badly. Into another man’s strong hands. Into the idea that he wasn’t so evil and toxic that he couldn’t be touched. That he could still be loved, even after all the shit he’d done.
He lifted his hand, hesitant at first, then braver, before sliding his fingers into the hair at the back of Joshi’s neck. It was soft, thick, and perfect.
He gripped Joshi’s shoulder, feeling solid muscle beneath his cotton shirt.
Joshi radiated a calm strength that made him feel small and huge. Like he could submit or conquer his demons. It was up to him.
Joshi grazed his lips along his pulse, slow and deliberate, and Vasquez swallowed hard as his cock tried to burst through his zipper.
He exhaled a shaky breath and slid his thumb along the curve of Joshi’s jaw, his fingers tingling against the thick stubble.